


I don't want to say nude, but it's the truth

by ShakeThatCocktail



Series: Marilyn [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Female-Centric, Feminine Energy, Ficlet, Fluff and Smut, Girl!Stiles, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Perfume, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Kink, Scenting, Sleeping Together, Smutty, Stiles needs alone time, Top Derek, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeur Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakeThatCocktail/pseuds/ShakeThatCocktail
Summary: After doing some research on Marilyn Monroe for a school project, Stiles decides to try something new, and Derek is totally on board.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Marilyn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150991
Comments: 8
Kudos: 141





	I don't want to say nude, but it's the truth

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an excuse for me to write a homage to my favourite perfume of all time - Jo Malone's myrrh and tonka cologne intense.
> 
> https://www.jomalone.co.uk/product/25946/43657/colognes/myrrh-tonka-cologne-intense?size=50ml 
> 
> Also, I tried the whole sleeping-in-just-perfume thing, and I highly recommend it if you're looking for some more feminine energy and a seriously hard time getting out of bed in the morning.

_"I only sleep in five drops of Chanel No. 5. I don't want to say nude, but it's the truth!"_

Stiles huffed a laugh along with the rest of the reporters on the recording, all of them enamoured with the blonde bombshell that was Marilyn Monroe. Stiles wasn't entirely sure about the point of this project - they'd each been given an American icon by the teacher, and told to research and present a unique viewpoint on the individual, whatever that meant.

Stiles' eyes drifted towards the black glass perfume bottle on her bookshelf. Lydia had dragged her to the mall one day on a mission to buy "the essentials", meaning lingerie and make up. At the beauty counter, Stiles had picked up a bottle of perfume and given it a curious sniff, only to devolve into a fit of sneezing.

"I suppose I could do with a few top ups," Lydia considered, eyes surveying the perfume counter nearby. "C'mon." The other perfumes they sampled were too sweet, too floral for Stiles. They cloyed at the back of her throat, threatening to choke her on their pale pink mist. This one, the one now sat on Stiles' bookshelf, went straight to her head and left her weak in the knees. It was heady, spicy and warm, moreish in a way that reminded her of burnt sugar, rich chocolate, and warm vanilla. Lydia noticed Stiles reaction, and grabbed her wrist to bring it to her nose so she could take a delicate sniff.

"That's definitely your scent," she concurred. Three weeks later, Lydia presented Stiles with the expensive bottle for her birthday, gift wrapped with a black bow and scented tissue paper. It had sat proudly on Stiles' bookshelf ever since, only being spritzed for special occasions.

Stiles eyed the bottle as she rose from her laptop and began to undress for bed, wandering over to it as she discarded her t-shirt somewhere on the floor for her to deal with another time. The heavy glass bottle felt luxurious in her hand, smooth and weighty. She supposed her self-care _had_ been lacking lately. Between homework deadlines, lacrosse practise, trying to keep her friends alive, AND staying up-to-date on every Monster of the Week that made its way through Beacon Hills, Stiles had barely had a chance to take a shower longer than five minutes, let alone indulge herself in a smidge of pure "me time". She couldn't even remember the last time she'd slapped on some moisturiser. What Marilyn had confessed seemed almost _too_ indulgent, so personally tantric. It intrigued Stiles.

 _Maybe Marilyn's got a point_ she thought, rubbing her thumb across a corner of the bottle.

Placing the bottle back on the shelf, Stiles hopped back over to her desk to check her phone. The pack group chat was remarkably quiet, just a slow debate between Jackson and Scott over what movie they would watch at the next pack night in. Despite how much of a douchebag she still thought he was, Stiles had to agree with Jackson's pick of _Thor: Ragnarok_ over Scott's suggestion of _She's All That_. Stiles loved the 90s, no doubt, but Hemsworth trumped everything. Sensing no danger on the horizon, and with the house to herself for the rest of the evening, Stiles preened at her chance of some peace and indulgence and placed her phone on Silent mode.

She switched off the main bedroom light and her laptop monitor, and fumbled in the darkness for the switch for the bedside lamp. A hunt around in her desk draw provided Stiles with a Zippo to light the half-burnt vanilla candle on her desk (another present from Lydia). The room was quickly bathed in a flickering, soft golden glow, shadows flitting and undulating across her walls.

Stiles quickly stripped off the rest of her clothes and made a grab for the perfume, her heart beating faster in anticipation. The perfume was strong, intense, and only a spritz on each of her collarbones and one to her midrift was enough to cloud her head, her eyes closing at their own volition as the scent brought a lazy smile to her lips. She flopped, not so gracefully, onto her bed, and revelled in the feel of the fresh sheets that had just been washed that morning against her skin. Stiles wasn't usually one to sleep in the nude - too many werewolves coming through her window at night made it an impossibility, so the feel of the soft cotton against her ankles, her calves, the crook of her elbow, down the length her back, was a delicious treat, her perfume soaking into the sheets beneath her.

However, she'd forgotten about said window...

She moved to her own beat in her head, legs rubbing together sensuously as her knuckles trailed lightly across her chest and limbs, her fingertips tracing delicate swirls across her stomach and hips. Stiles had a good body, she knew that. Yes, she was tall and a little lanky, but she was strong too, the curves of her legs and hips defined and betraying her femininity beneath her baggy overshirts. She grinned a cat-like smile when the muscles in her abdomen flinched at a lingering swipe across the sensitive, baby-soft skin below her belly button.

Her hands moved lower, and she hummed in pleasure as her nails slowly and gently raked across her skin from kneecap and up to her inner thigh, the muscles underneath beginning to quiver the closer Stiles got to the same sensitive spot. She repeated the ministration, nails digging in a little deeper now, and a shuddering breath escaped her lips. She shifted her shoulders, her hips following suit, and she noticed the tell-tale slip and slide at her core. She was turning herself on.

"Good going, Stilinksi," she breathed, moving a hand up to trace a fingertip around her her nipples in a langorous fashion. It quickly proved not enough for her, and a well-timed pinch had her hips stutter as they slid from side to side, moving under the light nighttime breeze that gently blew in through her open window. The hand that was clawing at her thigh began to move west, inching closer to her heat, and a low growl had her arching her back off the bed, neck completely bared, with a satisfied moan coming from low in her throat. It took a moment for the self-indulgent, lustful haze to clear from her mind, her brain catching up and realising that the growl wasn't hers. 

She turned her head on her pillow, eyes slowly opening and readjusting to the light in the room, only to see none other than Derek Hale standing in front of her now-open window, her light shift curtains fluttering behind him. He was staring straight at her, bottom lip dropped to expose his bunny teeth. If anything, he looked adorable shocked, but the red tinge to his eyes made her core clench.

"Derek!" she exclaimed, immediatley yanking at the blankets beneath her to cover herself as much as she could. She felt herself go red all over, her cheeks and shoulders growing hot. Derek Hale had seen her naked. Derek Hale might've just seen her pleasuring herself, and she had no idea how she was going to live this down. As she shifted on her bed, she caught another wave of her perfume, and she tried to slow her breathing. Derek caught it too, taking in a long draw through his nose. The red in his eyes darkened.

"What is that?" he asked, curious. The tip of his tongue came out the wet his lip, and Stiles knew for sure that he just heard her heart stutter.

"Perfume," Stiles answered, swallowing hard, her voice dry. "The one Lydia bought me."

"I've not smelt it on you before."

Stiles offered him a weak smile. "Special occasions only I'm afraid, big guy."

Derek raised an eyebrow at her, taking a lazy step closer. "This a special occasion?" he asked, and Stiles cheeks burned as she watched his eyes trail over her half-covered body, lingering on her crossed, exposed ankles, the curve of her shoulder. She swallowed again.

"Sorta," she answered. She adjusted herself, sitting up and clinging harder to the bedding that was covering her chest as it threatened to fall under her movement. "What can I do ya for, Derek? Don't think you dropped by just to say hello."

"What can you do for me?" he parroted. He sounded in disbelief. "I come in here, interrupt you _pleasuring yourself_ , and you ask what you can do for me?"

Stiles tried to surpress the shiver that ran down her spine at his words, and Derek's eyes flashed. In soft light of the room, he was a dark shadow, all black clothes and burning hot eyes.

"I think the question now is what can _I_ do for _you_?"

Stiles watched him slowly approach the end of her bed, her eyes drifting from his to his hand, which cautiously reached out the graze her anklebone. The touch shot electricity up her leg, her skin tingling, and she became acutely aware of how much of the other side of her body was on show, her blankets not stretching far enough across her to cover her entire right flank. His fingers moved as he moved, drifting from bare skin to soft cotton as he made his way further up the side of the bed towards her. She watched his eyes shut as he took in another deep breath through his nose, the scent of her perfume getting stronger the closer he got. When he opened them, his red eyes were just as glazed as her's, the heady scent blanketing his brain.

"What do you want from me, Stiles?" he asked, and she trembled at the growl under his words. He was close now, his fingertips just drifting across the blanket above her hips, and she couldn't control herself when they flexed, her eyes fluttering at the slick slide of her core.

"Help me," she whispered, and Derek's nostils flared as the tangy scent of her arousal cut through the cloud of her perfume.

Stiles gasped against Derek's lips, the werewolf swooping down and consuming her with crushing, open kiss, one knee coming up to rest on the bed beside her, a hand cupping the back of her neck possessively. Stiles hands flew up to his dark hair, totaly forgetting the pitiful modesty the blankets she'd been holding afforded her, the fabric pooling at her waist. His hair was thick and surprisingly soft, and she buried and twisted her fingers in it to her heart's content, Derek growling appreciatively. He nipped at her bottom lip, his tongue quickly soothing the sting, and Stiles couldn't help but squeeze her thighs together tighter.

He pushed back on her gently until they were both lying on the bed, Stiles on her back, with Derek stretched out beside her, the hand on the back of her neck slipping away so he could prop himself up on his forearm. His other hand pulled away the last of the blankets covering Stiles' figure, and Stiles arched into his hard frame as his hand swept down her side, his hand large enough to encompass the entirety of her hip. He held her hips firm as she tried to grind up against his denim-clad leg, and she whined in annoyance.

"Derek..." she pleaded against his lips. "Please."

Derek placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then chin, along her jaw, and down her neck, nipping at the soft, pale flesh. "Patience, Stiles," he murmured, and Stiles' eyes rolled back in her head at the rasp of his stubble against her skin.

"Been waiting too long..." she breathed, and she felt Derek's hand slide up from hip to her neck, angling her just where he wanted her, and she let out a quiet sigh of pleasure, her fingers curling tighter in his hair. Derek's hand drifted again, down her chest, and she yipped in surprise as he tweaked her nipple, already hard and sensitive from brushing against his worn leather jacket. Stiles felt another gush of wetness in her core.

"Derek," she chastised, panting, and she felt him grin against her neck.

"Shhhh," he soothed, lifting his head from her neck and teasing her lips open into a hungry, dominating kiss. Stiles trembled in anticipation under the pressure of the flat of Derek's hand as it slid down the middle of her chest, down the middle of her stomach, past her hips. Her hands moved too, sliding from his hair to his shoulders, pawing at his leather jacket until she could slip her hands beneath it and grip onto his shoulders. Her head fell back against her pillow, eyes closing as she gasped when Derek dipped a confident finger between her folds, sweeping upwards once, just grazing her clit. His hand covered her core entirely. "You're so wet, Stiles," he breathed.

Stiles turned her head to look at him, only to find him staring back at her in rapture, in bliss. The heat in her cheeks rose again.

"Only got yourself to thank," she sassed, grinding her hip up against his hand. "C'mon, Derek," she whispered against his lips. "Make me cum."

Derek's eyes blazed at her command, and Stiles' fingers curled into the soft fabric of his pullover as he began to move against her, trailing a finger through her slick and circling her clit. She shuddered when another finger joined, arching her hips to meet his hand as the pressure grew, as the coil in her core tightened. She gasped into his mouth when he slowly slid the fingers away from her clit and entered her in a single pass, filling her, and Derek shuddered against her.

"So fucking tight, Stiles, and so fucking wet," he growled, catching her in a bruising kiss. "So fucking hot and perfect."

"Derek!" she keened, rolling her hips in time with his movements, her core clenching around his fingers. "Faster, harder," she begged, and Derek obliged, hammering his fingers until Stiles was writhing beside him, swallowing the most delicious noises she made. Stiles' entire world condensed down to the growing pressure between her legs, Derek's broad shoulders beneath her clawed hands, the fresh, citrus smell of his aftershave. She let out a bonafide cry when Derek's thumb began to circle her clit as he slipped a third finger into ther core, fingers digging into the firm flesh of his shoulders. He growled in response, and the sound went straight down Stiles' spine. "'m so close, Derek, so close."

"It's ok, Stiles," he breathed against her cheek, placing a soft kiss on her heated skin. He drew in a deep breath, the scent of her arousal and her perfume shrouding his mind until all he could comprehend was the sensation of her clenching around his fingers, the feel of her body writhing against his, the brush of her lips across his. "I've got you."

Stiles' hips bucked under his hand as the circles he drew around her clit became tighter and harder, and she began to pant, Derek now curling his fingers on every up stroke, catching that elusive, sensitive bundle of nerves she'd never managed to find by herself.

"D-Derek..." she whimpered, hands sliding from his shoulders back to his hair, and holding on for dear life.

"Cum for me, Stiles," he growled in her ear, and the floodgates opened. Her body tensed up as his hand stilled, the pressure on both her G-spot and clit too much for her to bear, and she cried out his name as she rode out her orgasm on his fingers, his thumb still circling her clit as she sobbed under his ministrations, her wet flesh already so sensitive. "That's it, Stiles. Such a good girl, so fucking good."

Stiles pulled at his hair until his face was back in front of hers, surging up to kiss him, licking into his mouth with abandon. She shuddered against him, biting down on his lip as he increased the pressure on her clit once more, pushing her further she'd been able to go alone before. Her thighs clamped around his hand as he drew her second orgasm out of her. It was harder and sharper than the first, and she let out a harsh, broken sob against his lips as she soaked his fingers with more slick than she ever thought a single girl could make. Her head felt light, so light she thought she might float away into the night sky, with only the harsh puffs of Derek's breath against her lips keeping her tethered to reality. Her ears were buzzing, her throat was dry - she tried to speak but no sound passed her lips.

As her thighs eased up around his hand, his fingers slipped from her core, and she let out a quiet groan at the loss, suddenly feeling so impossibly empty. He gently stroked his fingers across her hot, wet flesh, lazily drawing circles in her slick, and one of Stiles' hands slipped down to join his, cupping the back of his hand and moving with him. She hummed in pleasure as Derek pressed soft kisses to her neck, bringing her back to reality, the hand still in his hair scratching at his scalp platfully.

"Derek..." she breathed, and she felt him hum against her skin. "Off," she commanded, tugging at the neck of his pullover. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable loss of pressure on her core as Derek sat back, sloughing off his leather jacket and reaching over his head to pull his thin jumper off, and Stiles' eyes roamed his body hungrily. Sitting up on her elbows, she watched his abs flex as he kept his balance, and she followed the dark trail of hair beneath his belly button to his what-must-be uncomfortably tight jeans. She could see him straining against the zipper, and she reached out with a helping hand. She raised an eyebrow at him when his hand caught her slim wrist, stopping her from getting any closer.

"Later," he promised, voice gruff.

Stiles scoffed. "Later? Really, Der?" she asked with a smirk, pushing against his hand in a futile attempt to sidetrack his werewolf strength. The smirk slid from her face and her mouth dropped open as she watched him bring his other hand, the hand that had just wrecked her body and shattered her into a thousand pieces, to his mouth and suck her juices off his fingers, like he was cleaning them after enjoying a delicious peach. He looked obscene, and when a growl came from low in his throat and his eyes blazed red, Stiles flopped back on her bed in defeat. As she hit the mattress, it was like it drained the rest of her energy from her. Her arms and legs felt like they were made of concrete, and her eyes were becoming harder to keep open.

Derek rejoined her on the mattress, scooting her over until there was enough room for him to press up behind her, tucking his arm beneath the pillows. He dotted kisses over her bare shoulder, down the back of her upper arm, her skin warming beneath his touch. "You taste as good as you smell, Stiles," he said, his free hand stroking her hip. "You always smell so good, so delicious, but _this_? Jesus," he breathed, and goosebumps errupted beneath his fingertips.

"Looks like I may have to break it out for more than just special occasions," Stiles answered, leaning back into his solid form. She twitched her hips slightly, feeling his cock jump against her ass, and she grinned at the growl he gave her in response. A satisfied hum escaped her as the hand on her hip dug into her flesh.

"Tonight was just for you," he reasoned, nipping at a mole on her shoulderblade. "In the morning, I'll take you apart with my cock and my tongue, and have you _begging_ for mercy."

The words shot straight to Stiles' core, but she had no energy left to push him any further. The warmth of him against her naked back, the press of him against her and into the bed, and the heaviness of her limbs curbed her enthusaism.

"I think I could wait until morning," she answered.


End file.
